I’ve moved my family across three countries, from Australia to Switzerland to the United States, and before each move, I romanticized what starting over would look like.
I imagined charming cafés, weekend adventures, and eventually finding a like-minded new community.
What I didn’t anticipate was that making friends would be one of the easier parts of our moves. Instead, the real challenges were the invisible ones, like navigating unfamiliar healthcare systems, securing suitable housing, and carrying the mental load of rebuilding everyday life from scratch.
Each move taught our family something different about what it really means to start over.
Trying too hard to make friends often backfires
Naomi Tsvirko
Before moving to Switzerland, I thought making friends would be the hardest part of relocating. I worried about loneliness, fitting in, and whether my children would find their place.
So when we arrived, I tried too hard to make connections.
I said yes to everything, introduced myself to everyone, and pushed to form friendships quickly. It felt awkward because I was trying to create closeness before it had a chance to grow naturally.
Naomi Tsvirko
Eventually, I stepped back — and that’s when the magic happened. Instead of focusing on finding friends, I focused on building a life. I joined writing groups, took classes, found work, and met people through hobbies and interests.
Those friendships lasted because they were built on common ground, kindness, and shared experiences. Although we now live in different time zones, some of those people are still close friends today.
The hidden stress of rebuilding everyday life abroad is housing
Naomi Tsvirko
In both Switzerland and the United States, navigating housing and healthcare became unexpectedly stressful parts of settling in.
When we moved to Switzerland, finding an apartment initially seemed manageable. We relied heavily on Google Translate to understand listings and create applications.
First, we had to think about which neighborhoods would feel most comfortable for English speakers. And once we started looking more closely, we realized how many small cultural details we hadn’t considered.
For example, we discovered that it’s common for rental apartments in Switzerland not to include light fixtures, so we’d need to purchase and install our own.
In-unit washing machines were harder to find than we expected, which became a major consideration for our family because we had two children playing ice hockey (which meant endless amounts of laundry).
When we later moved to the United States, our housing search looked different but carried similar emotional weight. Instead of seeking out English-speaking communities, we were looking for a town that aligned with our values.
We wanted strong schools that supported both academics and the arts, as well as access to competitive sports programs for our children.
We eventually found a community that checked those boxes, but it took time. We rented for two years before feeling confident enough to buy a home.
Navigating healthcare was equally challenging in different ways
In Switzerland, the language barrier complicated even straightforward medical appointments.
Although we found an excellent pediatrician, my husband and I often avoided scheduling appointments unless absolutely necessary because we worried about misunderstandings. We initially struggled to understand how the insurance and billing systems worked.
In the United States, the challenge was almost the opposite. There was an overwhelming amount of information available online about doctors and healthcare networks.
Every physician seemed to have hundreds of reviews, rankings, and conflicting opinions attached to them. Instead of making decisions easier, the abundance of information often made us feel more uncertain.
Ultimately, the most valuable recommendations came through word of mouth. Conversations with other parents and local families helped us far more than online review platforms ever did.
Relocation taught our family patience
Naomi Tsvirko
Looking back, the biggest lesson relocation taught us was not to rush anything.
It was OK to choose a doctor and later realize they weren’t the right fit, or to rent in a town that didn’t ultimately suit our family. It was OK for some friends to remain acquaintances while other relationships slowly deepened over time.
We learned to give ourselves grace during the adjustment period instead of expecting immediate certainty.
Living abroad also forced us to communicate more openly as a family. When everything around you feels unfamiliar, even small frustrations can feel magnified.
There were moments when homesickness and exhaustion clouded our perspective, making every challenge seem larger than it really was. Over time, we became better at grounding each other and focusing on what was working rather than what felt wrong.
Once we stopped trying to recreate our old lives perfectly, we became more open to appreciating where we were.
We’ve now discovered that the ingredients to a successful relocation are patience, humor, flexibility, and teamwork. With those, it’s possible to create a sense of belonging almost anywhere.